


The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU- Game of Thrones, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 09:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon is infatuated with, and a little afraid of, the barista at his new favorite coffee shop. </p><p>(Oneshot Coffeeshop AU/Modern AU with the tiniest bit of University thrown in. A little bit angsty, a little bit fluffy, a lot bit smutty.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape

Jon sat cross legged on the sagging sofa in their sparse living room, cradling a biology textbook between his knees. The apartment had bare white walls and a collection of secondhand furniture. It was comfortable enough for the two boys, and kept much cleaner than most, but it was still clearly furnished and kept up on a student’s budget, with mismatched pieces and taped up film posters. Sam stood in the kitchen, working over the burners of the oven.

“I think she’s my soul mate, Jon. I really do.” Sam laid a patty of meat down in the pan. “D’you want some lunch?”

“No, I’m fine,” said Jon, licking his finger and turning the page of his book. “So where did you meet this girl?”

“At Renly’s party last night. He was like, oh Sam I have this girl I want you to meet, and he says that to me a dozen times a week, so I didn’t pay him much mind. But then he grabs her by the shoulder, and it was like a movie, I swear. She spun around and she smiled at me and I knew. I just knew.”

“Did she say anything to you? Or are you just marrying her smile?”

Sam sat down next to Jon on the couch with his plate and bit into his burger. He spoke with his mouth half full. “We talked for a little bit. I got her number.” Bits of bun flew from his mouth back onto the plate. Jon shifted a away from him, hoping to avoid the spray. Sam swallowed audibly. “I’ve invited her over tonight. Is that alright with you?” Sam looked at Jon and smiled sheepishly.

“Er, sure? That’s fine. I’ve got plenty of work to do. I’ll just be in my room.”

“Well, I was actually hoping you could, you know.” Sam raised his eyebrows. Jon shook his head. “You could just find somewhere else to be for a while? I mean, I don’t know how long she’ll stay, and if things get, you know, heavy.”

“Right. Okay. I’ll just go to the library.” Jon laid his pencil in the spine and closed his book with a thunk.

“Are you mad? I mean, I figured you wouldn’t want to be around for anything like that.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Jon stood and forced a smile. “I’ll go ahead and go now. Leave you some time to get ready and turn your charm on.” He shuffled toward the door and slipped on a pair of sneakers

Sam was grinning like a bride. He slid his half-eaten food aside and jumped up to hug his roommate, who stiffened and patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Jon. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Good luck.” Jon said and picked up his keys. He shut the door softly behind him and sighed before heading down the concrete stairs.

Jon got into his car, a black, dull sedan lacking character and full of barely working parts. He had lied. The thought of sitting in the library for another moment amongst the buzzing silence made him feel queasy. He didn’t have anywhere to be, or at least anywhere he wanted to be. He drove down the streets of the small college town, scanning the buildings. He considered stopping at all three of the chain coffee shops he passed, but the thought of the noise within made him drive on. Jon considered returning to campus for almost a mile until he saw a coffee shop he swore hadn’t been there before, nestled between two stores in a shopping center built with warm brown bricks. The simple neon sign on the building named it The First Bean. The parking lot was mostly empty when he pulled in, which gave him hope for a peaceful evening.

The inside of The First Bean was wide and shallow, with a concrete floor and brick walls that would’ve looked industrial were they not filled with bright canvases. The space was dominated by the counter in the middle, with plain metal tables and chairs on one side of the register and plush, velvet sofas on the other. Jon inhaled deeply and relished the sharp smell of coffee and sweetness. A small group of friends sat chatting on the sofas farthest from the door, the only customers in sight. Jon moved from the door to the right, setting his thick book on a small table and wandering back to the front to gazie up at the menu of drinks posted on the wall. He craned his neck, looking for any sign of an employee. He considered leaving, going back to the familiar buildings where he could disappear. He wanted to turn, but movement inside of the bakery display caught his eye. A hand wearing a clear plastic glove was moving pastries, aligning them into straight lines. Jon backed up some to try and see the body connected to the hand. Instead, all he saw was a set of lips, wet and mauve, with the tip of a pink tongue sticking through the corner. Jon moved back to the counter and cleared his throat. The employee jumped up.

“Welcome to The First Bean. What can I get you?” the woman asked. She had long, coppery hair pulled out of her face but loose at her shoulders and back, a sharp face with wide, bright eyes and lips that played at a smile. Jon thought she was beautiful, but in a dangerous way. She had an allure and brightness like the reds and yellows of a poisonous snake. Jon looked from her up to the menu above her.

“Um. Can I get a,” he spoke but trailed off. He squinted at the chalkboard scrawl, pressing his lips together in uncertainty.

“Yes?” she asked.

“An, er…” His eyes scanned the list of words. He looked back at the girl, who was staring at him with a sour expression, her tongue tucked between her lower teeth and cheek.

The woman behind the counter huffed and crouched down again, prodding a line of scones and stacking them on top of each other. “Let me know when you’re ready,” she called.

“I know what I want,” Jon said.

“Do you really?” the woman asked, standing upright again and cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think you know.” She spoke with a low, rough voice. Jon read the nametag pinned to her brown apron: Ygritte.

“Yeah, uh,” Jon said. He looked back again and spat out the first name he saw. “I just want a mocha frappuccino. Large.”

Ygritte chuckled to herself and pulled out a plastic cup. “Your name please?”

“Jon, no h. What’s so funny?”

“I just didn’t figure a boy like you would order such a womanly drink.” She scribbled on the side of the cup and busied herself with the machinery.

“Womanly?” he scoffed. “I didn’t realize your gender had a monopoly on certain drinks.”

She looked up, her eyes sharp and annoyed. “I’m sure there’s a lot you’ve never realized. In working here a year, I haven’t once sold a mocha frap to a man.” Every word she spoke sounded like a challenge, like a joke he wasn’t in on.

Jon sat down at his table, the closest one to the counter. He could’ve sparred with her, but something about the girl made him uneasy. He flipped the book open, but only read a page before she spoke again.

“Mocha frap for Jon,” she called out to the empty café. Jon stood and grabbed the drink, lingering at the counter and busying himself with the process of unwrapping a straw as he watched her wipe down the counter with a rag. She looked up and saw him watching. He dropped his eyes back to the straw.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked.

“No,” she laughed, crossing her space to the sink, but turning to look at him as she spoke. “I just hope it doesn’t make you feel like less of a man.” She had a fire behind her eyes, and he could almost swear he saw the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she smiled. His mouth gaped as he searched his mind for a defensive quip, but he drew a blank. She turned back to her sink and her rag, and Jon went back to his book, drink in hand. When he sat, he noticed the side clearly read John, not Jon.

For several hours, Jon would let himself take a peek at her for each page he finished. A few customers drifted in and out, but mostly, he saw her trying to keep herself busy with menial tasks. He watched her rearrange each pastry in the display, straighten the spouts on every syrup pump, and scrub the already clean counter. No matter how hard he tried, he didn’t see her looking back at him. He thought it was just as well. When he finished his reading twenty minutes before the café closed, he stood on wobbly legs, sore from being unused, and headed for the door. As his hand reached the metal bar, he heard her voice.

“Well, Jon, I hope you’re man enough to come see me again.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” He regretted the words as soon as they were in his mouth, but they fell out and hung in the air before trailing behind him as he exited the shop.

When Jon got home, Sam and the girl were in the living room. They were trying hard to look natural, but Jon could tell by their mussed hair and the purple splotch on the girl’s exposed neck that the sound of his key in the lock had broken them away from each other. He gave a small wave to the couple and mumbled an apology as he shuffled to his bedroom.

* * *

 Jon returned to The First Bean the next day, unsure what about the redhead made him want to see her again. He tried to convince himself that he only wanted a quiet study spot with a nice ambience, and maybe to make a better impression than “I’m not afraid of you,” but he knew part of it was her smile. When he went inside, he thought of asking the guy at the counter if he knew Ygritte, or at least when she worked, but he imagined the word getting back to her. Instead, he ordered a black coffee and sat with it at his table from before. The taste was so strong and bitter that he thought he may gag. He came in the next day, too, with Ygritte again missing. He tried a coffee cut with milk and sugar, which was an improvement on the last experiment, but not the same. With his mind idle as he drove home, he wondered if he had imagined the fiery woman.

Days later, Jon got a call from his childhood friend. Robb was a football player for his own school hundreds of miles to the South, and traveling for games often brought him to the area. As always, Robb stayed with the boys on his team, but snuck away for lunch with Jon. They rode together in Jon’s car through the city. Robb demanded the windows down, and Jon obliged him despite the fact that the wind brought his dark mop of hair to life, half-blinding him and tossing itself about. They ate burritos from a small restaurant, and as they left the building after their meal, Jon had a sudden thought.

“Hey, do you want to go get some coffee?” he asked.

“Sure. Are there any good places around here?” Robb asked.

“Yeah, there’s actually a great place close by.”

Jon was certain that Ygritte wouldn’t be there today. He figured she only worked when the gates of Hell had been opened, or at least just on the weekends. He was confident that he and his drink order were safe from her scrutiny. When he and Robb walked into The First Bean, Ygritte was behind the counter, handing change to a customer and giving them a small smile as they walked off. She looked up at the sound of the bell on the door, and her polite smile widened into one Jon found both menacing and alluring.

“Welcome to The First Bean, boys. What can I get you?” she chirped.

The café was more filled than Jon had ever seen it, with every soft couch occupied and the words of strangers bouncing from the hard walls all around him. Robb approached the counter.

“I’ll have a small iced coffee, with just a bit of milk.” Rob pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Oh, and one of those little lemon cakes, please.”

Jon stepped forward. “Your money’s no good. Let me pay for yours. You never let me treat you.”

“You just paid for lunch,” Rob protested with a laugh, but stepped aside.

“Oh, I already know what Jon wants.” Ygritte remarked, scribbling on a clear plastic cup. “Are you two on a date?”

“No, this is my friend, Robb. We’ve been friends since we were children. We grew up together.”

“Oh,” Ygritte said, nodding and cocking an eyebrow. She leaned to the side and lowered her voice, smiling at Robb. “Has he always been so cold and stodgy?”

Robb chuckled. “He has. Kids growing up thought he was so cold, they used to call him Jon Snow. But he’ll warm up after a while.” Robb elbowed Jon in the arm with a smile. Ygritte laughed heartily. Jon set his money on the counter and stared down at his feet. He shuffled to his usual table, Ygritte’s growing laugh trailing behind him. He sat, and soon Robb followed him.

“Why did you tell her that?” he asked, sullen.

“What? The Jon Snow thing? It’s funny!” Robb said. Jon frowned. Robb’s smile faded. “You still don’t think it’s funny?”

“No, I don’t. And that girl gives me hard enough time as it is.”

“I think she likes you, Jon.”

“Are you out of your mind? She talks to me like I’m a child.”

Robb shook his head, smiling smugly. “Don’t you remember when we were kids back in Winterfell? The girls would always pick on the boys they liked the most.”

Ygritte called out, “Drinks for Jon and his friend.” Robb rose to get them, taking the few steps to the edge of the counter and returning quickly.

“The only girl who even talked to me was your little sister. How is Arya doing, by the way?”

“Good, tough as ever, faster than I even was at her age. She’s always asking about you. You really should visit during the holidays.”

“I’d be more inclined to if your mother didn’t hate me so much.”

Robb took a long sip of his dark drink and furrowed his brow. “You’re trying to get me off the subject. Jon Snow, are you as afraid of women now as you were as a child? She’s cute enough, why don’t you just ask her out?”

Jon stared at his thick, frozen drink. “I don’t know, Robb. Even if she does have any interest, which I don’t think she does, I don’t know the first thing about women, let alone wooing them.”

Robb stopped mid-sip. “Do you mean to tell me-“ he started, voice harsh and loud. Jon’s face must have shown his embarrassment, because Robb stopped and lowered his volume. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re still a virgin, Jon? And how old are you now?”

He felt his cheeks flush. “I’m almost twenty-one. You know that. I just haven’t found the right girl yet.” Robb gave him a disbelieving look. “Sure, I’ve thought about it here and there, but it’s just never felt right.”

“You’re a young, strapping man, Jon. Finding the _right_ girl shouldn’t be your concern. Now is the time in your life to explore your options. Have some adventures. Didn’t your father ever explain that?”

Jon pressed his lips together and stared down into his drink, swirling the contents with the clear plastic straw.

Robb sucked in air through his teeth, remembering too late. “Sorry, man. I forgot about the dad thing.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, Jon too uncomfortable to look at his friend. In the quiet, he was aware that the people and their noise had dwindled during their talk, leaving room for their silence to reverberate in its place.

After a moment, Jon looked back up at his friend and smiled weakly. “It’s alright. Want to head back now? Your team is probably wondering what girl you’ve run off with.”

Robb laughed and nodded. They stood and headed for the door. Jon half expected to hear yet another quip from Ygritte as he left, but she was silent this time.

* * *

Jon returned to The First Bean two days later. Sam and his girl Gilly were properly dating now, and Jon would rather be anywhere than listen to the wet sounds of their kissing. He left his apartment late, knowing his favorite shop would only be open for another hour. Despite the redhead and her condescending smile, The First Bean was far better than any chain coffee shops, and almost always quieter. He shuffled through the door, another textbook in hand. The building was empty, save for Ygritte, who sat on the counter with her back facing the door. At the sound of the bell, she turned over her shoulder to see. Their eyes met and she smiled before hopping off the counter.

“Jon Snow, it’s you. Tell me, do you always know when I’m working, or am I just a lucky girl?”

Jon shook his head. “It’s just coincidence. I’m probably cursed.”

“Where’s your friend? He was a cute little thing, he was.”

“He was just visiting. Robb’s gone back South now.” Jon smiled to himself a little. He’d have to call Robb later and gloat that he was wrong all along. Ygritte had no interest. It made Jon’s stomach drop some to think it, but it took away a bit of pressure. He stood before her, scanning the menu board.

“Don’t bother reading that, Jon Snow. We both know what you’re going to order.” She smiled, and Jon could see by the way she held her mouth that she was biting her tongue behind her lips. That expression and how self-sure she looked drove him half-mad.

“Actually, I’d just like some hot tea. Whatever kind you recommend. It’s late. I shouldn’t drink much coffee at this time of night.” Jon felt more than a little bit pleased as he watched her smile fall.

“Changing it up on me, are you Snow?” She pulled a thick cup from underneath the counter and filled it with steaming water.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get bored now, would I? It’s dull enough in here.”

“It got duller when you came in.” She plopped in a tea bag and slipped a thin cardboard ring over the middle of the cup. She held it out for Jon, and he took it from her hands, their fingertips lingering for a moment that seemed longer than necessary.  Jon settled himself at his usual table, as close as he could get to her without seeming obvious about it. He started on his text for a while, until he heard a click across the room. Ygritte was standing on her toes, switching off the neon open sign in the window.

“Are you closing now?”

“Well, yes, but you can stay as long as you’d like. I don’t think I’m bound to have any more customers tonight.” She strode across the room and slid into the chair opposite Jon’s. “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone interrupting our special time together.”

“You’re funny,” Jon said without laughing, looking back down at his booking and trying to force his cheeks not to redden.

“Is it true what your friend said about you? That you’ve never been with a woman?” Her smile was almost predatory, and Jon wondered for a moment if she was about to lick her lips. She looked at him with an intensity and curiosity that made him want to run back to his car, or maybe all the way to his apartment.

“Eavesdropping is very rude, Ygritte.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I find it hard to believe that a pretty boy like you could go so long without a woman falling over herself after you. You’ve got that hair and that little scowl. Surely you’re just being shy.”

Jon looked back down at his book, trying hard to ignore her, but each word on the page twisted and morphed. Maybe Robb was right. He looked back up at her. She was watching him intently. He turned an unread page, but his hand trembled as it moved.

“You put up a good front, Jon Snow. You’ve got a lot of armor, a lot of hardness. But I know what’s really going on underneath. I know you’ve got a softness inside you.” She bit her lip, smiling still. “Soft like a cunt. Oh, but you wouldn’t know, would you?”

She smiled as she leaned across the tiny table, bringing her face so close to his that he could feel warmth radiating from her. Jon felt his hand still shaking, though he’d hidden it under the table. He watched her as she stretched out her arm, pressing her thumb on his cheek and her fingertips on his neck. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips onto his, without a trace of hesitancy or worry. Her lips felt like they were made for his alone. Her mouth was soft and smooth, and his lips worked against hers, shaky and urgent. Ygritte’s other hand pressed against his jawline, the other hand drifting backwards to the nape of his neck, fingers thick with his messy curls. Ygritte kissed his lower lip, sucking softly and enveloping it for a moment before taking it between her teeth and nibbling softly. Jon’s breath caught in his throat; the sweetness and sharp pain made his blood flow hotter. He could swear he heard her let out the smallest laugh. She gave his lip another nibble, and then a soft kiss, and pulled away.

Jon tried to keep a straight face, but he was worried as he watched her stand. Her hands slid behind her back, working at the knot of her apron, which fell to the ground unceremoniously. She gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up slowly, then moved her hands behind her back to work at her plain grey bra. Jon watched the unveiling of her skin more intently than he had watched anything before. She bent and slid her slacks over her hips and down to the floor, revealing her black underwear. His eyes roamed her body, and when he found her face again, she was smiling hard, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. She took several steps backwards, never breaking her eyes from him. She pulled herself up onto the counter behind her and extended a hand, her index finger curling and uncurling, beckoning him to her.

Jon crossed the space between them hastily, and as he approached, he saw that they were almost the same height with her sitting on the counter. His nerves had melted now, and raw need was left in their place. He pressed his lips to hers again, and she snaked her hands behind his neck. The wet sounds their lips made sounded like music to him. Ygritte pulled him closer to her, pressing her hands on the back of his neck and wrapping her legs around the back of his. Her urgency only pressed Jon harder, adding timber to his growing flame. He knew she must feel him hardening against her as the space between them shrunk by degrees. She bit down on his lower lip harder this time and Jon couldn’t take it anymore. He let his lips trail downwards, planting soft kisses along her sharp jawline. Ygritte tilted her head and leaned back on the counter, propped up by her unbent arms. Jon kissed her exposed throat, following it to the curve where her neck and shoulder met. When his lips touched there, Ygritte made the softest sound. He felt the vibration in her throat more than he heard it, really. He moved toward the back of her neck, taking great pleasure in feeling her rapid pulse against his mouth. She squirmed against him, angling to give him full access to her bare neck. He kissed her harder there, sucking and grazing his teeth along her skin until she moaned again, louder this time. He placed a soft kiss over the already darkening spot.

His lips found their way back to her freckled shoulder, lighter on her skin but no less wanting. He traveled down the taut skin of her clavicle. She leaned back for him, sighing. Jon’s head swam with worry, but his body moved down, past her bare breasts to the smooth expanse of her stomach. He felt her body tense and move underneath his lips, and the proof of her pleasure made his cock stiffen. He continued, planting thick wet kisses downward, pausing with his lips between in the small sacred place where her stomach ended and the fabric of her panties began. She was so quiet, so unlike how she had been earlier. Jon was certain he had done something wrong. He looked up and saw her head tilted back far, her long hair pooling on the surface of the counter behind her. She snapped her head back and looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Are you trying to be a tease, Jon Snow, or are you really that timid?” she asked. He could hear the breathy need behind the edge in her voice.

As his reply, Jon pinched the waistband of her underwear between his teeth and started pulling down. Ygritte shifted her weight and lifted her hips from the counter just long enough for Jon to pull her panties down to the middle of her thighs. Her now-bare ass made a satisfying smack against the counter as she moved again. Jon led the scrap of fabric past her knees and calves, letting it fall past her ankles to the floor without a sound. He crouched in front of her, pushing her knees apart. He moved carefully, still eager to taste her but less quick with nervousness. He kissed and sucked at her inner thigh, working inward toward the soft skin brushed with coppery red hair. He took his time exploring, with small and tentative kisses.

Her cunt was wetter and sweeter than Jon had imagined. At the first long stroke of his tongue, Ygritte made a loud, desperate sound. Jon ran the tip of his tongue from her bud to her opening and back again, gliding against her slickness. His hands gripped her thighs as he molded his tongue to her body, pressing and sucking against her. Ygritte cried out again, a high and wild sound. Jon worked his tongue harder against her nub. They spoke without words in this way; he wrote a language against her body and she translated the message into moans. She laid her hand onto his head, her fingers deep in his curls.

He pushed his tongue deep inside her, and she squirmed against him, bucking her hips upward, her body begging to have him deeper, closer. Every shudder made his cock ache more. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking hard. She cried out his name, and the sound was sweet and sharp in his ears. His tongue darted and danced against her swollen nub. The movement pushed her over the edge of pleasure. Ygritte moaned wordlessly, clenching a fistful of his hair in her hand as she peaked. He slowed, kissing and lapping at her as she came, feeling the twitch and thrum of her sex underneath his lips.

Jon pulled away from her legs, straightening to standing once again. Ygritte sat up fully, her breath still shallow in the aftermath of her pleasure. She twisted her fingers into the collar of his shirt, harshly pulling him close again. Jon expected her to kiss him again, and she did, but not before running her tongue along his wet chin and the sides of his mouth. The taste of her mouth and her cunt were heavenly, almost as good as her hips pressed against his straining erection felt. She ran her tongue down his jawline again, following it up to his earlobe. It felt as though she was playing against his ear, tongue flicking and teeth grazing and lips sucking. After a particularly sharp nibble against the soft flesh of his earlobe, she stopped.

“I want you to fuck me, Jon. Do you want to fuck me?” She pressed her hips forward as she spoke.

“Yes,” he groaned.

The word was all she needed. Ygritte’s hands slid underneath his shirt, running fast up the sides of his body. He moved with her, shrugging out of the fabric. Her hot breath spread against his neck in waves while her hands moved nimbly against his belt. The metal buckle clinked as she unfastened it. Her fingernails scraped against his skin softly as she dug her fingers in deep and tugged, pulling at all of his remaining clothing. Jon shimmied free and stood, nude as she was, his cock hard and aching. To his surprise, Ygritte pushed herself forward, grabbing his shoulder for leverage. She slid off the counter, her bare feet making a soft sound on the tile. She grabbed his hand and pulled, walking toward the plushest sofa in the room. In one smooth motion, she sat and lay onto her back, knees bent and smiling bigger than he’d ever seen. Jon moved toward her, positioning his legs to counter hers. He took in the sight of her, bare and waiting for him, only him. It was too hot, too powerful for him to hesitate. He held her hips and pressed himself into her.

Jon started slow, inching further and further until the entirety of his length was inside her. She was so tight and warm around him, and the feeling threatened to finish him immediately. Slowly, he pulled back out and in again, building a smooth, steady rhythm. Having her this way, he was able to see her fully, every time she took her lip between her teeth, every shudder and sigh. She wore her pleasure on her face, and that enough could’ve gotten him off. Ygritte’s fingernails dug into his back; she pressed herself against him, countering each of his movements with a roll of her hips. They moved in unison, like a machine, with the sounds of their pleasure warring against the sounds of their bodies coming together. Jon felt himself edging close to release when she spoke.

“Wait,” she said, pressing a hand to his chest. Jon stopped dead, his racing heart beginning to drop. Had he done something wrong? Was he hurting her?

No, it wasn’t that. His eyes focused and saw she was wearing that dangerous grin again, which did nothing to calm him. She pressed her hands squarely on his shoulders, more forceful than he expected, pushing him back. He hit the cushion below him with a soft thud. Ygritte slid above him, her knees hugging his hips. She guided his cock gently, positioning it right beneath her opening, but even the touch fingertips made Jon moan. He watched her face as she slid his prick inside her, how her eyes rolled back and her lips parted, a sigh escaping them. She pressed her palms against his chest to steady herself and rode him in earnest. She ground her hips into his, harder and faster than Jon ever would’ve dared. He watched the smooth motion of her body above him and groaned her name through gritted teeth.

She cursed, a string of words that would normally make his ears flush. He felt her begin to tighten around his cock, pulsing and twitching. She arched her back, head tilted back so far that the ends of her hair tickled his bare thighs. She came hard, maybe even more than before, her cunt spasming. The heat was unbearable. With her name on his lips, he broke. He felt his release through his whole body, in his curled toes and his tense stomach and the sore skin under her hands. She rode him as he peaked, slowing her movement to gentle rocking as he softened inside of her.

Carefully, she dismounted him, shifting her body to lie on her side, body pressed against his in an entirely new fashion. She laid her head against the junction of his shoulder and chest. She looked to him so tame in that moment, eyes closed, breath coming in long, deep sighs. He slid a hand across her back, drawing swirls with a gentle touch of his fingers before resting them against the dip of her waist. Jon thought to himself that he could get used to this view, this image, but it felt overly sweet and syrupy on his tongue.

“I could get used to having a proper lover like you, Jon,” she mumbled, her breath spreading across his skin.

It was Jon’s turn to smile then. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Carrie for helping me out with this idea and generally being an angel with encouragement and a devil with smut recs. 
> 
> This is only the second fanfic I've ever written, first for GoT, so I hope you liked it!


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